


The Five Love Languages

by Libraryof_Alexandria



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 14:20:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libraryof_Alexandria/pseuds/Libraryof_Alexandria
Summary: Crowley studies and practices the art of the five love languages. Unsure of whether the angel can feel his love he is determined to show it without any hope of love in return.





	The Five Love Languages

**Author's Note:**

> *This is my first ever fanfiction lol so let me know if you like it! Also, I know nothing about grammar or plants don't come for me.

Crowley could have been credited with the deciphering of the love languages. He’d spent at least a Millenium studying humans and their ticks, what had really made them fall for another person and then, what made them decide to stay. His observations could be divided into five categories- Physical Touch, Acts of Service, Gifts, Time Alone, and Words of Affirmation. As a demon, he really should have just been poisoning all of the relationships with acts of lust and infidelity and what not. But some of the ways humans showed their love was basically sinning anyway so he figured why not give it a go on the object of his affections. 

Aziraphale. Charming, beautiful, and stupid fucking Aziraphale. Angels could sense love everyone knew that. So was he daft, just playing with him, or could he really not sense that the demon had been in love with him for 6,000 years? In the end, Crowley decided that he would always show Aziraphale he loved him the worst he could do was tell him to stop, and if one day he decided to do something about it then so be it. 

\----

“You’re an Angel I don’t think you can do wrong.”

Aziraphale always did look happier when Crowley reassured him. And to be fair it had been easiest to start with. Friends assured each other all the time. Crowley didn’t want to go to fast for the angel but it wasn’t like heaven supported him. The brief smile and light that glimmered from his pale blue eyes would make his chest flutter and squeeze at the same time. As much as he loved being an ass and teasing Aziraphale the ache that making him smile caused was so much better. So throughout the years whenever Crowley was disorganizing the book shop, he would leave notes for him to come across. He didn’t want Aziraphale to always have to fish for reassurance, and just saying “you are the best of Gods angels and your laugh rivals the sound of heavenly choirs and Freddie Mercurys voice” wasn’t quite as subtle as he was going for.  
“Nice one convincing that girl to leave the store she would have folded the corners for sure”? Aziraphale read aloud after discovering one of his earlier notes.

“I can’t tell if this is a jab or a compliment my dear but in any case thank you” he pursed his lips into a fond smile.

“Of course it’s a compliment, Angel. She had book abuser written all over her.” he grinned.

“Oh, well I suppose she did” Aziraphale smiled turning to put the book back in its proper place forgetting to chastise him for misplacing it.

\---

“All right I’ll take this one”. 

Acts of service were also pretty tame. But most of what he started out doing for him related to work and Crowley didn’t want Aziraphale to think he did those things because of the arrangement. Aziraphale would also ask him on occasion for favors like with fixing his old suit jacket, but did it really count if he had to ask? Crowley had decided it didn’t. So he would always look for tasks that he knew Aziraphale would probably do himself and work out a way to do it for him. If a new (almost as old as hell) package of editions had arrived at the bookshop Crowley would carry them in. If Aziraphale had an appointment (anywhere he wanted to go) Crowley would always be there to give him a lift. 

Whenever he tried to return the favors however Crowley would try to stop him. 

“I just want to help! You’re always lending me a hand my dear I really should lend you hand every once in a while!” the angel tutted as Crowley was maintaining the roots of a poor amaranth Aziraphale had nearly managed to murder in the Dowlings greenhouse. 

“Well you really don’t have to and you don’t know anything about plants anyways”. He retorted.

Crowley looked up from his work and his gaze softened behind the glasses as he noticed Aziraphale's eyebrows scrunch as he looked around the beautiful garden encased in glass. 

“It’s just that you do so much for me I really don’t know how I’m going to repay you”. 

“We have time” Crowley responded softly “And I can teach you...how to take care of them..I-If you’d like” he finished hurriedly. 

“That’d be wonderful” Aziraphale beamed. “How do we start?”

Crowley guided his hands to the plant set out on the table and began explaining the importance of separating the roots before repotting.   
That night Crowley left a note on how well he’d done in an “Idiots Guide to Plant Husbandry”   
he’d bought for him. Aziraphale practically glowed with ethereal happiness when he’d found it. And the Amaranth? Crowley took it as a souvenir and considered stealing it an evil deed of the day accomplished. “Eternal love” indeed.

\---

Crowley had given Aziraphale a box of chocolates and flowers as a house warming gift when he had first opened up the bookshop. Gifts were entirely less subtle especially if they weren’t for a gag.   
Giving gifts as an excuse to stick around however couldn’t be questioned. If Crowley was down for a glass of expensive wine then, of course, the most logical next step was to scour his apartment for something that he had bought 70 years ago (with Aziraphale already in mind) that had just aged in. If he passed a booth in the London markets that just happened to be selling some of Aziraphale's favorite fresh pastries then it couldn’t be helped since he really was already on his way over and it would be a shame to let the last of them go to some grubby children who would enjoy the flavors as much as Aziraphale did. Really. 

\--  
“Perhaps one day we could go for a picnic, dine at the Ritz.” 

Quality time was definitely new for them. After the Nah-pocalypse as he had so fondly named it (despite objection from everyone) he and Aziraphale had begun to see much more of each other. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t dined before or chated over drinks back at the bookshop. They could just do it so much more often now without business getting in the way.  
If Crowley had to pick a favorite love language up to now it had to be this one. Every moment he could soak up of the angel was heaven. They walked in the park, finally had that picnic, they went stargazing. He felt so fulfilled like he was so close to everything he had ever wanted. He guessed because everything he’d ever wanted was only just an accidental brush of fingertips away, In a tartan suit.   
\---  
The last of the love languages. The most difficult to subtly convey. Affection, intimacy, touching. Things that a demon and an angel would be unfamiliar with. Yes, they had been angels under an all-knowing mother. But a mother who’s love you can only feel inside. She cannot cradle you in it. It is a love that is only known. That being said for a very long time Crowley and Aziraphale had been restricted to shaking hands and the accidental bump of shoulders. Anything else would be inexplainable, gone too far, going too fast. So Crowley never initiated anything. 

“Crowley, would you mind doing me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor.”

He would set himself on fire the instant Aziraphale asked it of him.

“Could you help me fix my feathers I just can’t seem to adjust them right?” he pouted as he was occasionally prone to do.

Well that was basically the same thing, wasn’t it.

Crowley got up from the chaise so perfectly placed for him to lounge on and padded up to the large circular carpet that Aziraphale was begining to get settled on. He began unbuttoning his shirt. For someone who felt Crowley went too fast, Aziraphale was kind of a dick.

“I hope you don’t mind my state of undress but the feathers that are in the worst sort of disarray are the scapulars and I figured you could get to them better if my clothes weren’t in the way.”

“It’s not the 18th century anymore angel I’ve seen a backside in my time” he replied hoping exasperation hid nerves.   
“Yes of course” he responded lying his ensemble of tops on a chair before sitting and turning his back towards Crowley.

“W-What happened??” he gasped eyes fervently taking in all the scars that traced up and down his back. 

At first, he thought that maybe a lover had done this? Ah, jealousy a wonder sinful feeling. But that was when he thought the cuts weren’t so intrusive. 

He began tracing his thumbs down the longest ones as thick as his nails and a bit longer than his forearms. 

“Well I guess you could say I wasn’t the best knight at the roundtable. Besides it’s not easy to heal a wound you can’t even reach so I just let them heal the human way.” 

“You could have told me” reverently tracing them and already using his own powers to heal them. It’d been so long since they’d first been placed that the best he could do was make them a little less deep and fade them as much as he could. “I would have fixed them.”

Aziraphale arched into the pressure against his back the feeling so new but gave so much contented pleasure that he felt his eyes flutter closed. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever been touch like this before. Crowley pressed his hands into the angels back letting them warm up to a temperature that would’ve been alarming if he were human. 

Aziraphale let a sigh escape him and Crowley felt like something had exploded in his chest. 

“I can feel love you know” Aziraphale whispered like it was a secret just between the two of them like he hadn’t reminded Crowley of the fact thrice a year.

“Course’ evry’one knows that” he whispered back finally thumbing his fingers through the scapulars that were perfectly in place. Aziraphale must have known they were perfectly set. He kept petting them anyways.

“So why have you never tried to hide it?” Aziraphale whipped around his wings circling them on the floor and his hands grasping at Crowley's wrists. 

Crowley had already removed his glasses so he could paint away even the lightest of scars. He regretted his choice now that Aziraphale could see every emotion painted on his face as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to say. 

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to,” he said.

Aziraphale shook his head “that’s not what I meant” His smile was sad. “All these 6000 years and from the very beginning I could feel it. And even when you were right beside me and you decided you would show me or tell me in a way. You enforced how you felt and made your love so strong at times I could hardly even breathe.” Crowley was mesmerized. 

He continued. “And I did nothing about it. Do you know why?”

“I’m a demon and a bit of a git really.” Crowley offered heart beating so fast he felt as though he might discorporate the moment Aziraphale let go of his wrists. 

“I was so afraid of letting myself finally have what I’ve always wanted.” Crowley shook his head in disbelief. “I can live without food, without music, honestly, I could live without books. But Crowley I think that if I were to ever have you as much as I’ve always wanted I could never give you back for all of eternity. Even if God asked it of me.”

He looked away with tears in his eyes and Crowleys hands came up to meet them. 

“..I thought that was the most terrifying feeling in all of existence.” He let out a choked laugh. 

“But after the apocalypse when I thought about how we almost lost each other..how you looked when you thought you’d lost me”. His whisper was barely audible. Their foreheads were barely pressed against one another and the spark was electric although everything else was heavy. “I knew it would be more terrible than anything to not be able to call you mine for at least one night.” 

Crowley tilted his head and kissed him. He ran his hands through the blond tufts of hair on his beautiful head and the long feathers of his primaries. He kissed his beautiful neck and his beautiful face. 

“You are my world Aziraphale” Crowley mumbled into his neck later that night tired from learning what worship to an actual person felt like.

“And you are mine”

He was so excited to leave Aziraphale some new notes tomorrow.


End file.
